


The One With The Love Letters

by Davechicken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Demisexuality, First Time, Grey-Asexuality, M/M, Past abuse (non-explicit), please read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 09:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19373545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Aziraphale thinks they are dating. Crowley thinks so too. Aziraphale thinks he knows what follows. Crowley absolutely does not.





	The One With The Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Historical but non-graphic and non-detailed abuse. Grey-asexuality and exploration of sexuality in a supportive fashion. NB the author does not think everyone needs to, or indeed should try sex. It works in this situation but not in every. 
> 
> Also this is my 1k. :)

Things were going fine until the angel tried to kiss him. 

Not in the ‘we’re in France and we’re saying hello’ way. The French had words for ‘hello’, so Crowley had never understood why they felt the need to go all smoochy as well. 

Sitting together, after a particularly... oh. It was supposed to be romantic, the movie Aziraphale had picked. Hence why he’d picked it. And then draped an arm over the couch. Crowley had thought he was just stretching, which now he looked back, was entirely oblivious of him. 

And when the credits weren’t even over, Aziraphale had turned to face him. Crowley had mirrored the gesture, ready to launch into his customary post-movie criticism, only to find a nose near his eyes and then a pair of squishy lips on his lightly-parted ones. 

Which just landed on him. And he didn’t know what to do, so he kind of made an indecent shriek, jumped back, and then wondered that the fuck? And probably said something along those lines.

“Was that... wrong? Crowley, I thought... oh, oh dear...”

He looked so damned _hurt_ and afraid, and Crowley was whirling through a myriad of his own responses, before he could even contemplate unpicking the angel’s. 

“I – you didn’t warn me.”

“I... thought I had. Everything in the books, in the films, suggested... oh. Oh... I’m so terribly sorry. What a nincompoop I’ve been... forgive me, I...”

Crowley caught Aziraphale’s wrist, as the angel started to flee. He shook his head, and looked pointedly back at the couch. “Don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t what?”

“I don’t know. Just. Don’t... don’t get angry. Don’t... don’t...”

“I just tried to force myself upon you! To – to ravish you! My dear, I’m so incredibly—“

Crowley clucked at him, and then sucked in his cheeks. “It just took me by surprise. I’m... I’m not angry, or upset, I just...” Oh, was he really going to say this? “Could we maybe... take time to... talk about it, not... just guess and fuck it up?”

The look of relief and hunger and oh my what the Hell... Crowley had not at all ever anticipated this, and now he had to work a lot out very, very fast.

“Whatever you need... but I am sorry.”

“Okay. How about we ban that word just for an hour or so? I get that you’re sorry, but I’m not sure you really should be.”

“But I—“

“You were... acting on good intentions, and I’m sure I’ve been sending all sorts of... _Human_ signals and you... you were reading into them.”

Wrong thing? Wrong thing. Aziraphale deflated visibly, crestfallen and grieving. This was ridiculous. 

“I’m s—I... I just thought it was what you wanted, too. I would never have... I simply presumed too much of our ‘relationship’.”

Fingers. Nose. Pinch. Crowley shook his head. “Please... don’t think I... look. I really, really... enjoy spending time with you. I mean. You’re the only one I’d ever _want_ to spend eternity with – and don’t you gloat!”

“I’m not!”

“You were. I can feel it. So just stop that right now and focus on the other stuff.”

“Alright.”

Where did he begin?

“I... like you. A lot. More than a lot. And I like... what we do. And I don’t want us to lose any of that.”

The angel nodded in agreement.

“So... uh. The kissing thing...”

“I can not-kiss you if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t know,” Crowley confessed.

“...you... don’t?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Oh.”

“Not – look. Not _you_. I’m not saying it’s something I didn’t think about with you. It’s something I didn’t think about, at all.”

“ _Oh._ ”

“I... don’t... do that. With anyone. I mean, it never came up, so I... didn’t think about it. And now I’m thinking about it, but it’s...”

“You mean you’ve not...?”

“No. I haven’t.” He squinted. “Could we maybe not use vague terms, I get the feeling we will end up discussing different things if we do.”

“Ah, sorry. I thought you might be embarrassed.”

“Think I got that well and truly started.” He felt mortified, honestly. “I haven’t done the kissing thing, not really. And none of the other stuff. I never... wanted to. So I just... didn’t.”

“But you’re a demon?”

“So?”

“Don’t you... go... tempting, and wiles and such?”

“Yeah, I tempt others to go off and do things. Doesn’t mean _I_ have to.”

“Oh.”

Great. Was he weird, somehow? Demons – and angels, for that matter – didn’t tend to come pre-gendered or pre-sexed. It was an optional extra at the garage. Some didn’t care what body they got, some ended up drawn more one way than another, and some bothered to add on alloy wheels and metallic paint. 

He just... hadn’t. Or felt any urge to. Or any curiosity about it. And now he felt like a shit because Aziraphale clearly had.

“I guess I thought you’d be too-holy and whatnot to want to, either, so I just... assumed we wouldn’t.”

“You know there’s nothing fundamentally bad about it, yes?” The angel looked guilty as Hell. It was not a look Crowley liked on him. “If it’s loving, if it’s happy, then it’s a beautiful element of a relationship. But it isn’t... necessary...”

“No, but you wanted it.”

Aziraphale wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Angel.”

“I had... entertained hopes that you would return my interests. But I assure you, I am not disappointed. Except in myself for making you feel like this. We can have a perfectly loving and lasting relationship without engaging in physical activities. That is... if you want to?”

Of course he bloody wanted to. He didn’t let just anyone more or less move in to his flat. He certainly didn’t watch rom-coms with anyone else, nor would he. He’d been very happy with their Arrangement so far, especially of late. 

And he’d apparently been making Aziraphale... uh... he’d been giving out signals that he wanted other things, and he hadn’t realised. 

“Yes, you daft bird. I... I want... I want to. I want... whatever we both want. For as long as you do.”

“So... we’re dating?”

Dating. He guessed they were. “Yeah.” Dating an angel. Talk about long-term. Though they’d kind of been sort-of flirting around the issue for... forever. “Yes.” More firmly. “I... want... I want to... be with you.”

The angel relaxed a little, his brow and eyes melting and basically sitting in a cloud of love-hearts. He was too adorable, and he made Crowley feel nauseous from it at times. 

“But no kissing.”

“I didn’t say no kissing.”

“...kissing?”

“How about... maybe kissing? If... if it’s nice?” It couldn’t hurt, could it? It might be quite enjoyable. Just... he had to get used to the idea, and the concept of his angel as a sensual being in that sense. And maybe himself. 

“Should I... wait for you to take the lead?”

He snorted. “If you do, then you might be waiting until the end of the universe. I – I mean, not because I don’t want to, just...”

“I could... kiss you now, if you’d like? I may not be very good at it, but... I would like to find out if I can... if you can enjoy it.”

“...” The non-noise was strangled, kind of awkward and garbled, and his face was a ridiculous mess of a reply. But he nodded.

He was so tense he wasn’t sure how he could possibly enjoy it, but he was willing to give it a try. He jammed his eyes shut, and jumped when a thumb slid along his dagger-point cheekbone. Fingers around the curve of his jaw, and it was... strangely intense, and too intimate. He nearly threw the angel off him, but he kept as still as he could. 

This time, the lips on his were measured, precise. A whisper of skin against his, and then they moved like they were talking. Some silent, ancient language that caused his head to pound and the feeling to be magnified a hundredfold. He couldn’t imagine he’d want – or accept – anyone else ever doing that, but it was Aziraphale. So it was okay.

The kiss wasn’t long, and the hand remained as the mouth moved away. Crowley felt empty, and high, and jumpy, and confused. He was pretty sure if he had junk, it wouldn’t be turned on, but the sensation had definitely been more pleasurable than not. Especially when he saw how Aziraphale beamed afterwards, when he finally opened his eyes.

“...it’s okay if you don’t want to again.”

“N-no... I... I think I do.”

“Not just for my sake, Crowley.”

“I’m a demon. We don’t do things for others.” Well. Usually.

“You must promise me you will be... honest with me. I have never... either. So I am as clueless as you are.”

“What if... what if that’s all I want to do?”

“You mean, nothing beyond that?”

Crowley nodded.

“Then that’s all we do.”

“...you won’t... feel you’re missing out?”

“No. It would be nice, but there are very many other ways I can express my love and affection for you.”

True. But if he wanted a physical relationship, and Crowley didn’t... he worried he’d be a constant disappointment. Maybe he could learn to like it?

***

Kissing was definitely nice, when he got his head around it. Sometimes he found himself thinking too hard about the fact they were squishing breathing and eating holes together, slobbering at times, but for the remainder he was enjoying the closeness, and the way it made his angel react. He’d be all moony and gushy, and he’d whisper soft endearments and love promises, and Crowley lapped up the attention like a starving man who had forgotten what food tasted like. 

He also liked the hair touching. Once Aziraphale found out that he liked his hair played with (and Crowley had no idea before this, either), he would find any excuse to do it. Either kisses to the back of his neck and a nose up his nape, or a gentle rustle of his wings across the top when he walked past... or they’d end up too-close and fingers would glide through the short strands. Press into pressure points on his skull. Twirl a very slight curl around a finger. 

Crowley wished they’d found that out in a period where long hair was fashionable. What he wouldn’t give to feel those touches for longer. Tumbling down to his shoulders, tugging and toying. He loved the way it made him feel pampered and important, and he made sure he pushed his own boundaries enough to return the favour.

Aziraphale liked it, but maybe not as much. But he did like his shoulders rubbed, and he would perch between Crowley’s thighs, moaning indecorously as his Human body was creaked and cracked in the demon’s hands. 

They enjoyed leaning against one another. Crowley liked it when Aziraphale wrapped his wings around him. They touched shoes under tables. Brushed hands over items. Blurred where the bubble was, that he’d kept around him for so long. It was okay, because it was him. And the closer they got, the happier he felt.

And the more he worried he was torturing his... his... boyfriend.

***

Aziraphale was reading something, and Crowley was tired of being a bad partner. No matter how much the angel said he was happy, Crowley felt he was letting him down. 

So he steeled himself. (Maybe with whiskey.) And he stalked closer. (Knees not shaking.) And he stood behind the angel, and bent down to kiss the exposed, pale neck. So soft, so delicate, so... close to the Human arteries, pumping blood around at a fierce pressure.

“Oh, hello, dear, if you’d just let me—“

Aziraphale did not finish, because Crowley shoved a hand between his legs, grasping for... surely it would be... where in the blazes was it?

“Crowley?”

“Where’s your dick?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have one.”

“I distinctly remember you did. And you were the one all het up about things. So I know you—“

Hands tried to prise his away from the angel’s groin, and he eventually relented and let the other turn to face him. “I did, but it isn’t necessary, and indeed it’s a burden. So I no longer do.”

“Why?”

“Well. I thought it would be upsetting for you. And I don’t require it, so I removed it.”

“So you didn’t want me _that_ much, then!” He felt irrationally angry about this, and pulled back to the furthest part of the room. 

“I do. That’s the problem. I... very much wanted you, and I didn’t want you to feel you had to accommodate my desires, so I... removed them from the equation.”

“If you really wanted me, you’d just... you wouldn’t...” Ugh. Ugh! Crowley felt so sick right now. He’d shoved his hands all over the angel, tried to force him to respond, and the damn thing had been all noble and got rid of the issue. 

Which. If he could do that, what else could he---?

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow. You... don’t want to do things, but you want me to want to?”

“I don’t know. I guess... I guess it was... flattering. And I thought if I—I thought if I could make you happy, then...”

“Then: what?”

“You’d be happy.” Duh.

“You think I’m not happy, now?”

“You’ve got half the package. The garlic bread starter. And no pizza.”

“Crowley... you are a full banquet. If anything, I’m missing a little salad dressing.”

“And so your salad is boring.”

“I have a whole meal to enjoy.”

“Well why did you want it in the first place if it doesn’t matter to you?” He was yelling, and it was stupid, because now he was mad at him for being thoughtful and caring and accepting and understanding and accommodating. 

But he wanted him not to. Weirdly. He wanted him to want things. Even if Crowley, himself, didn’t. And he wanted him... miserable? No. Oh, it made less than no sense. 

“Does – do you mean to say... you... are interested?”

“Dunno.”

“Because if you are, that’s different.”

“I dunno! I guess.” He hmphed in annoyance. “I... wanted you to want to.”

“...but... you didn’t want to?”

“I was hoping it would be fun to – to – for you to.”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He’d just assaulted Aziraphale without asking, because he thought he’d like it. Because that was always a good plan. Stupid!

Aziraphale pulled the other chair out, and asked with his eyebrows. Crowley groused a minute more before he sat, grumpily, in it.

“I presumed my... sexual interests would make you uncomfortable,” Aziraphale explained. Calmly. “Out of respect for your lack of interest, and in order to... feel that I was not unduly pressuring you, I... made the decision to... remove the problem.”

“So you said.”

“It was not because I am no longer... interested. I... assumed it was something you would never want, and I hated the thought of you feeling... feeling inadequate, or... that you must please me in this way.”

“Right.” This was torture.

“...please... don’t think it means you are... not desirable. It’s simply that I value your company and your happiness more than how we achieve it.”

He was the worst kind of shit. Wanting things he didn’t want. Or... it was all a mess, and he looked down at his hands. “I’m... s-sorry I... grabbed you and... assumed things and got mad at you.”

“You really are forgiven. I care for you – so very much – I just... don’t know what to do, to do right by you.”

“Neither do I,” he admitted, with more remorse than he knew he could voice. 

“Is there... something you aren’t telling me?”

“Like?”

“Is there... something... worrying you? Or did something... did something... cause this?”

Crowley startled. “Are you asking me if I had a bad and wrong thing happen, and it made me frigid?”

“...it... can be... a contributing factor.”

“No one tied me down and – no. No one. It’s...” Hands in hair, comforting himself. “I mean, no one... explicitly, in the traditional sense... did anything like that to me.”

But. But, but, but.

Aziraphale waited, and Crowley forced himself to continue.

“...you know Hell is all... you know what they’re like. The... talk around the water not-cooler. The... plans and all the... things they would share. The... thr-threats and the...” Why was he shaking? “It... w-wasn’t like you think of... stuff. It was all the... w-w-wrong kinds, and... awful stuff. Hate stuff. Ruin your life and give you nightmares forever stuff.”

“Oh, Crowley...”

“I just... I never... thought more about it, because it was... vile. I know I’m wicked but there’s... there’s lines. And it was all just... it was all things I had no interest in, and I f-find it difficult to... separate that... because it was all I thought I was capable of, so...”

The angel looked ready to burst from unshed tears, and Crowley hated himself all over. He’d gone and turned something pure in the angel’s mind and heart into his disgusting, vile, warped version. He’d muddied a pure stream, dragged a stinking corpse in, and dropped it there to contaminate the water. And it was right if Aziraphale now hated him, for doing that, because he should just have shut his mouth and maybe laid back and pretended he liked it and—

“And here am I, making you feel utterly awful!” Aziraphale bleated. “Oh, oh I am _so_ sorry. How could I be so thoughtless? I had – I had never thought what it must be like for you. I – I only imagined what love should be, and...”

“Hey. It’s okay.” He waved a hand, airily. “Not your fault.”

“I’ve been beastly! I never asked you!”

“I never told you.” Hmm. “Actually. I didn’t much think about it. Not before... you know.”

“They did this to you!”

“...kind of. I mean. Demon. Sort of asking for it. Didn’t exactly graduate top of my flight class in Heaven.”

Flunked out spectacularly, indeed. 

“Tell me... tell me what I can do to help you. Should... should I remove some of my books? Or avoid some films with sexual content or implication? Should I—“

Crowley sunk lower. “No.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Yeah. Me either. But... I don’t want... to feel like I’m ruining your life.”

“Ruining it?” There was a furious scoff. “You are the most important thing _in_ it.”

That made him red in the face, and he tried to appear as small as possible. “But I – I just turned something... you like into...”

“You did not. Love is still beautiful. And I am more horrified that you have experienced – in any way – the opposite. I – I am furious for you!”

“...thanks? I just... thought if I could... thought if I could give you what you liked, then you’d be happy, and I would be happy you were happy.”

The moments drew out between them, as they both thought. Crowley loved and hated that they could do this, that they could forget social conventions and focus on what really mattered. 

“Would it truly please you?” Aziraphale asked, at long last.

“If you were happy.”

“And you... wouldn’t be unhappy?”

“...more, it’d be uncomfortable? I guess? But... I still wanted to.” For you.

“Would... you... mind if we didn’t charge in, head first?”

Crowley snorted. “So no leaping into your arms and demanding you ravish me?”

Aziraphale smiled, and it looked mostly happy. “Yes. I... want it to be right. For both of us. As much as it can be.”

That sounded okay. He nudged his foot against the angel’s, under the table, to reassure him. “We can work out our own normal.”

“We always do.”

***

So Aziraphale had a dick again. He didn’t get it immediately. He waited a moderate time, and one morning, when they were lazily trading kisses before the angel went off to ‘work’, his hand was taken and guided lower. The minute the gesture started, he felt everything flush and fluster, and when he touched there, he could feel every lump and bump. It was only slightly interested, and Crowley only glanced against it, and then Aziraphale kissed him again.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Sometimes Crowley gave the angel a lift in. Today he was glad he hadn’t. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but he was... complicated. And he needed the day to process this new development.

***

Porn was awful. Really awful. Crowley had to say, if sexual acts were like the glossy and... oily... and overblown pantomime he saw on reputable websites... that could not be fun in any way. 

Wasn’t this supposed to be romantic and shit? Stuff angels would like?

Maybe he was looking for the wrong stuff, because this just made him sure that demon-kind’s version was closer to the truth. 

When Aziraphale got home, he was sulking, and he’d forgotten all the earlier interest he’d been fostering.

“Is this really what you want?” he asked, turning his laptop around to show over-exaggerated characters with terrible motivation and overly-caricatured body types and acts. 

“Oh, goodness... Crowley, that isn’t... that isn’t it at all.”

“I wanted to see what I should be doing and—“

“Please. Please, no. I don’t want you to try to conform to anything at all. And that is – that is – oh my, I didn’t even know that was physically possible.”

“Apparently. You should see the one where there’s four of them.”

“...four?”

“Before you ask: no. Not ever. You, and no one else.”

“Agreed,” Aziraphale nodded. “Most certainly. I mean, if they are happy... but how does it all... fit?”

“With a lot of screaming.”

“I see.”

Aziraphale stared again. And then blinked. “D-did you... find... anything that was... vaguely appealing? Or... any ideas that you... might like?”

“Uh. I guess.” He knew he’d been masochistically searching for things he hated, which was dumb, but he had seen a few things. Usually when he tried the soppy words like ‘romance’ and ‘love’ and some of the genuine stuff between couples. 

“Would you like to... watch those with me? Or... me to watch them?”

No, a little voice squeaked. He wasn’t sure he could handle that, so he shook his head, fiercely. 

“Would you like to wait a while before we look again?”

He hated that it was that way, but it was. Crowley slammed the laptop shut in frustration. 

“Perhaps we could both look for things, at our own leisure, and then share them with each other. So you can see what... things I am interested in. And I can see what you like?”

A non-committal grunt, and he wished he weren’t like this.

***

Aziraphale even learned how to email. It was a minor miracle. Aziraphale was emailing him. He was finding weirdly cute videos of couples doing... stuff... and sending them with small essays on the pros and cons, and which parts he found appealing.

Crowley watched the videos, dutifully, but it was the writing he connected to. For himself, seeing two random people bump and moan was not that appealing. When it turned into the angel’s slightly stilted prose, though... he could see, almost, the two of them. Vaguely, distantly. He could imagine the angel moving, and sighing. And he could tell the emotion behind it. 

That part... yeah. Okay. It wasn’t about the angles, or the repetition, or even about the body types. Crowley was even surprised to see a few with one, or both of the parties being female. He hadn’t even considered if Aziraphale liked one more than the other, he’d been so personally divorced from his own body that he’d just... not.

But maybe it didn’t matter. Aziraphale’s notes were all about the eye-contact, the connections. The soft pillow talk. The reassurances and the questions. Crowley had never considered that you could talk in the middle. Could check on things. Ask if it felt good. Hear what was working, what wasn’t, and... change things about. There was none of that grabbing of parts and demanding and degrading, at least not in these versions. He guessed some people liked that, but he had experienced quite enough of it to not want it from his boyfriend. 

Slowly, he started to watch them differently. He started to imagine those looks on Aziraphale’s face. He couldn’t quite get to thinking he’d be as – uh – responsive, but he could definitely think he’d like to see it happen for the angel. And that he would enjoy _that_. And giving him things. And making him happy. 

He was just worried his own lack of reaction would dampen the mood for him. 

Crowley picked the ones he liked each time, and sent them back with a little ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. But mostly they were yes. 

The kissing continued, and he definitely liked that. Sometimes, after the kisses, he could see that dreamy-eyed gaze, and he would hold Aziraphale close so he could keep watching. He’d run his fingers over his neck, over his shoulders, and smile up at him. But he felt – he felt maybe there was more he could give, and he wanted to.

***

The first time, it was winter, and it was cold outside. They’d made sure the lake froze before they got there, so they could laugh at the birds and the children who ventured out onto the ice. Aziraphale got them hot chocolate in his eco-friendly mug things, and the drive home had just been... just been nice. 

It was the kind of day you could forget you were an immortal creature, damned from grace, and only thought about the good things.

When they got behind the flat door, Crowley pounced. He was feeling playful and energetic, and he practically jumped onto Aziraphale and pinned him to the shut door. 

“Oh – oh my!” his angel sputtered, as Crowley proceeded to kiss his face all over. Hands in his hair, foot pawing at the wall. “You are feeling friendly.”

“Very,” he agreed, with a growl. 

“I love you, too.” It was amused, and affectionate, and utterly true.

Crowley moved his hands between them, stroking curiously at Aziraphale’s upper thighs. He had his eyes shut, nosing at his jaw. “...s’okay?”

“Ohhhh, oh, very much so. If you—“

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Aziraphale obeyed, all hands over his face, kisses that found the corners of his eyes and smile. Kisses that parted his lips and licked him of lingering chocolate smears. He felt oddly giddy, light-headed, and happy. Aziraphale was enjoying it, and he was okay. No one came in and screamed at him to stop, no one hit him until he was bloody, no one...

...focus...

He stroked over the angel’s belly, making him giggle at the tickle, and framed the place where he was intrigued and afraid of, in equal measure. He pressed into the fabric around it, and then rubbed himself against it, not quite ready to touch with his hands.

“I love you so much,” Aziraphale told him, gushing with affection and emotion. “I love that you want to do this for me. I want you – I – I want you to know this – I – I d-d-d-DON’T NEEED OH YES PLEASE CROWLEY, PLEASE!”

He didn’t need. No. But he _wanted_. And hearing him so lost to pleasure, so overcome with emotion... of course an angel would love, doing this. Of course he’d seek only the good parts. This angel, anyway. Crowley buried his face into his lover’s neck, and shoved a hand into his pants. 

No world-ending. Still. His hand was on a dick – Aziraphale’s dick – and his angel was cooing in delight. Telling him how – how – g-good he was. How he cherished him, how he respected him, how he was so proud of how hard he fought and how smart he was and how loving he was.

Crowley was sure that Aziraphale had a hugely inflated sense of him, but it was still nice to hear those nice things. Nicer to think he’d still say them if he wasn’t getting a hasty hand-job, up against the door. It was messy, and it was awkward, and he should have pushed clothing properly down. Or got into a better position. Or anything. But he’d wanted to do it, then and there, and he didn’t want to over-think or ruin his impetus.

“Crowley... if... I’m going – that is to s-s-sAY I—“

“I want you to.” He did. He wanted to see, hear, and feel it. He wanted those eyes on his – like those paragraphs said – and he wanted Aziraphale to feel the things he’d written about. All that acceptance and joy and mutuality and shit. Fluffy, daft, sentim—whoa, was that really how it felt?

The hot spurts were brief, and powerful, and stickier than he’d expected. It made a mess of both their outdoors coats and Crowley peered down at the reddened skin his hand curled around. He’d seen it a few times – flaccid – just to get himself used to it. And he hadn’t looked at all before the end, and maybe that was a shame. But now it looked... vulnerable, and sensitive, and... he knew it could be incredibly painful.

(He knew that too well.)

One too-tight twist, one tool, one metal impl—he shook the thoughts out, refusing to let them intrude. He would never hurt his angel, not ever. And it was a bless—uh, it was a gift to be given such a position of trust. 

He tucked him back away, and wiped his hand on his own coat, before cleaning the evidence so they didn’t have to deal with it.

Aziraphale’s eyes shut at last, his head drifting backwards. His chest worked the air, his hands on Crowley’s hips. 

“That... good?” Crowley asked, aware questions were okay, now.

“ _Heavenly_. Full offence intended.”

“Taken.”

“But... truly. It is... it is something to be treasured by your loved one. To have them want to make you happy. To... be... desirable for them...” Aziraphale flustered. “I mean—“

“No. It’s okay. I... did. I wanted... to see you... like this. Happy.”

“You are the sweetest thing at times.”

“Shut up,” he complained, and then jumped at the hand around the back of his neck. 

The next kiss was deep, passionate, and felt... charged, somehow. Like their moment together had done something to deepen their connection. Or maybe he was picking up on radiated lust and satisfaction. Any which way, when it stopped, he was left holding on for dear life. 

“I very, very much enjoyed you doing that for me. Because you wanted to.”

Crowley nodded.

“You didn’t feel you _had_ to?”

“No. Uh. I... liked the idea of making you feel like your... uhm. Letters. It sounded... fun.”

Aziraphale looked ready to cry.

What? So he wanted to make his lover happy. What was the big deal about that? It was Aziraphale. It was always different when it was Aziraphale. And seeing him happy made Crowley happy. And knowing he hadn’t screwed his immortal life up by being averse to stuff was important, okay?

“I should enjoy a bath, if you’d like to join me?” Aziraphale asked. “And then perhaps you can pick the evening’s activities.”

“Yeah. You do stink.” It was the only way to break the too-heavy resonance. It needed to be less intense for a while.

***

Crowley liked Aziraphale’s dick. He found this out with vigorous interactions with said dick. Either in bed, with hands and thighs and even his mouth; or on the couch, or with his knee between his thighs in a little bubble that no one could see in, slightly away from anyone who might sensibly pass by. 

He was not into Other People. But sometimes he wanted to flirt a bit and the flat was too far away.

Aziraphale’s dick liked him in return. And it became a game of how long could he make the angel wait until the eventual release, how long could he draw out the pleasure. He loved the sounds of frustration and the begging, and he loved having some kind of control over him. But control that the angel was happy to give up. 

He loved, more than that, the words he got in return. The kisses all over his back and belly and thighs. The messages worked into his skin with fingers, the curses that he tripped beyond lips, the way his angel felt closer and closer to him every time. It was joyful, and it was pure, and it was anything but what he’d worried it would be. 

Which made him feel stupid for having been so nervous in the first place. 

But eventually... he... he felt there was something more. Something... further. 

And it built up inside of him, twisting like a vine, until his angel called him out on it.

“I do wish you’d hurry up.”

“Pardon?”

“Whatever it is you aren’t telling me. I promised myself I’d be patient, but – well – I have many other virtues.”

Shit.

“Uh. I... I keep wondering if it’s time to... time to try something... new?”

“Have you found a new pornography?”

Why did he have to use that word? And in its entirety? And he’d found him _one_ time. One! 

“No. I thought... uh. Maybe I could... see if it’s... something I like, too.”

His angel glowed like he was stuck on top of a freaking Christmas tree, then, and Crowley cowered a little at the intensity of the response. 

“I should be delighted to explore this with you.”

“...and if I don’t?”

“We will have lost nothing but a few moments of a day, and we will – I assume – still be happy?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Then... you may consider me ‘down’ with this, whenever you are.”

Right.

Okay. So. Time to fret for some more time. And then say ‘bugger it’ and try anyway. 

***

He lasted all of thirty-seven seconds before he started laughing. 

Aziraphale was out, and Crowley was taking the time to do some investigations in private. Which started with getting the tackle necessary.

He made the essential change, and then stared at the dangly bits and wondered why anyone would find them attractive on him. On Aziraphale it looked cute and adorable and right. On him, it looked wrinkly and heavy and like an over-sized pendulum. Or something. Maybe it was the angle?

He stood in front of a full length mirror, trying to imagine he was a third party (angel) looking at his body. It still looked ridiculous, and – worse – it swayed when he walked. Did Aziraphale’s do that? Or was it permanently so rapt in attention that it couldn’t? 

Crowley tried making it longer. Shorter. Fatter. Thinner. Smoother. Less smooth. None of the changes seemed to be right, and he ended up so flustered that he got rid of it entirely and said nothing about the experiment. 

It was a whole week before he tried again. He’d measured Aziraphale’s precisely, and gone for the same ratio to his own height and weight. Which was probably too obsessive. Then he closed his eyes, snapped his fingers, and stared at the result. 

He was going with the first one, unless it was horrible. It wasn’t horrible, but that’s the best he could say about it. He poked it with a finger. It jiggled. He bounced on the spot. It jiggled. He imagined Aziraphale walking in on h--- HELLO. WHAT?

It did not so much jiggle as feel like a lightning bolt coursing down his spine, and sending blood rushing behind. Crowley’s dick discovered arousal, and Crowley was two seconds behind it. 

It wasn’t fully erect, and he assumed some of that was his own nerves. But it was definitely interested in the prospect of his angel, and that meant it was working. He wasn’t totally defective! He felt like picking up the phone and yelling ‘I have a gift for you so get back here and unwrap it’, but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to suddenly vanish if he did. 

Crowley poked it. It bounced back into place, and looked sort of ridiculous. He poked it again, and thought how dumb he must look. Humans came pre-wired, though, and they just got it turned on one day. They didn’t have to suddenly deal with a whole new group of bits attached and the sensations and nerves and muscles involved! So there.

He stared in the mirror again, turning this way and that. It was... still silly, but so was Aziraphale’s. And he liked that a lot. He liked the feel of it, silky and gliding in his hand. He liked the way it tasted on his tongue, and he liked to watch those balls tense just before the end. 

Remembering those things made his own get firmer, and his head swimmier, and he called out in frustration. Here he was, having his first erection, and the angel wasn’t here!

Selfish twat.

Crowley grabbed his phone and pressed the speed dial. 

“Hello, darling, is everything—“

“I’m horny. Where are you?”

“...that’s... oh, you are? That’s excellent news!”

Maybe his etiquette was lacking, but stuff it. “Yes! I thought about you and it got all – pointy! And now I want you to come home and deal with it.”

“I’ll be right there! Don’t – don’t – I’ll be there!”

Maybe his erection was not supposed to be an emergency, but Crowley sure felt like it was. He knew Human ones didn’t last for indefinite periods, and even Aziraphale’s had waned a few times, when it had been a tiring day and he just wanted to kiss and cuddle. 

Crowley glared down at his soon-to-be trouser snake. “Don’t you dare think about going soft on me.”

His dick, thankfully, did not answer. 

Crowley spent the remaining time wandering around, vaguely thrusting into the air, and occasionally imagining those sounds Aziraphale made. That made it so much worse, made it so much harder to handle, and made him whiny with the needy way his body craved his angel.

Was this how he felt? So – so – overpowered? Overwhelmed by the thought of hands, of kisses, of the look in his eyes? Did Aziraphale really feel this intensely about him? Because it was making him lose his damn mind and start wondering if humping the furniture counted as infidelity, or just foreplay. 

By the time Aziraphale opened the door, Crowley was keening in despair, beyond the point of shame for how ludicrous he looked and must seem. He just – he wanted Aziraphale to see how much he wanted him, wanted this, and he needed to feel that thing he knew made his angel speak in tongues and shake the bed when he found it. 

“My love, what happened?” Aziraphale asked, between the kisses and grinding and hands that squirmed into his clothes.

“I made it to see if I could get used to it, and then I thought about you, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it did **this**.” Crowley made his ‘point’ by dry-humping Aziraphale’s thigh. “Make it stop!”

“Make it stop?”

“Do the stuff! The... things! I don’t know!”

“You mean, make love to you?”

“YES ANGEL I MEAN THAT.”

He was annoyingly obtuse at times. They had gotten sweaty enough by now that he had to know what worked for a penis. He had multiple options, even. And Crowley was eager to try at least seven of them right the fuck now. 

Two hands cupped his ass, pulling him closer, making the friction betterworse. He keened and clawed at the angel’s shoulders, wondering if his legs would –

“What the—“

“Trust me,” Aziraphale said, and lifted him up. The body shouldn’t be able to pick him up so easily, but Crowley didn’t care. He wrapped around him like the serpent he was, all tangling legs and arms he shouldn’t have, and let Aziraphale carry him to the bedroom. 

The kissing didn’t stop, and neither did the grinding. It was great, and hot, and the best part was the utterly _wicked_ look on his angel’s face. No. Not wicked. He held no malice at all, but he still wanted to consume him, to burn him up, to eat him alive. Metaphorically. Sexually. Repeatedly. 

Crowley absolutely consented, and only went down on the bed because Aziraphale was right there on top of him, stripping his own clothes as they squirmed and writhed and giggled. 

“You’re so eager, my dear.”

“Been w-waiting for the right t-time...” Since when did his nipples feel like that when Aziraphale grazed them? Okay, he was going to have to see if it worked both ways... just as soon as he could use his hands again.

“You are so very, very beautiful like this. So happy, so free.”

“No! Not. Yours. Not free. ‘Zira...”

“Free from pain. Free from fear. Free to love.”

“’ZIRA.”

“Tell me how you want this, love. Tell me what you need. Anything you want, anything. I will give it to you. Everything.”

“Just – just you. T-tell me...”

“That I love you? Adore you? Worship you?”

Their bodies were sliding together, now, his cock pressed into the angel’s belly. It was as graceless as it was elegant, and he pulled at his hair, demanding kisses over his throat. He wasn’t going to last, not if it felt this good, and he wanted it to be as good as it could be. Aziraphale rutted at his hip, and the hissing and gasping and sounds of them moving made it stretch out like a bubble over water. Pulling the surface to give more time to the moment, reflecting everything around and containing nothing but a gasp of air. 

“That you complete me, that I wouldn’t want to live without you? That you’re the bravest being I know, and that I often wish I was more like you?”

“...angel...”

“Not in every sense,” he qualified. 

Crowley chuckled. That was more like it. More real. More them. 

“That I want to see you as happy as I can make you, I want to see that smile of yours... I want to see you let go of the pain... I want to see you let me in, all the way in, and see yourself as I do...”

“Nnngh... l-like... those... those s-stories you used to—“

Hands found his, and their palms met. Their fingers laced. Crowley’s legs wrapped around him as he let the angel drive their movements, let him lead their bodies where they needed to go. 

“I want to see you fall apart, knowing you’re safe, because I have you, and I always will. I want to see you leave everything behind, and know in that moment, that nothing could hurt you. I want you to see how happy you make me, how I want the good, the bad... all of it. And I want to see you realise that you are loved, beloved, cherished, precious, and mine.”

Oh _fuck_. Those weird, aching things he’d felt when he’d read those messages, those promises, those declarations. The yearning connected to the body, made the feeling... made it snap into place. He’d been wanting, but... not accepting. Or something. Maybe he had wanted this even when he thought he hadn’t? Crowley wasn’t sure, but it felt like a revelation and an epiphany and the best kind of moment when the music in the car matched the scenery whipping past. The road was clear, the sun was bright, and the bass line reverberated in his chest. Everything just – just –

He wanted to scream when it hit him, but the words just wouldn’t come. Instead, he found his eyes on his angel’s, and saw such... such affection and accomplishment and relief and joy. Something like he’d felt when he’d done the same for him, but now it felt... deeper. All the way down, past where he could measure, sliding in the spaces between his atoms into the parts that had no form, only feeling.

Fuck. It was all those poems and songs and movies and he realised why the angel had wanted this so much.

When the shockwaves ebbed enough to let him think, he held his angel’s face and kissed him with all the energy left inside him. He could tell the angel had found his release, too, and he looked down at the mess they’d made together. It was impossible to tell which splash came from which of them, and he kind of liked that. Maybe he was high.

“I had no idea you liked my... silly... notions.”

Crowley snorted. “I liked them much better than anything else you sent me. And – and I just kept thinking how I wanted to keep you feeling like that.”

“You... enjoyed it, too?”

“Before. _Yes_.”

“And now?”

“Now, I hope you realise I’m never going to let you leave the flat again.”

Aziraphale rolled them over, settling Crowley across his chest, and stroking soothingly down his spine. “Now, now, dear heart.”

“I mean it. You don’t go breaking a demon in and then expect him not to turn it evil.”

“Well. I could make a case for a holiday. So long as you don’t try so much you get bored of me.”

“Nah. Just send me more of those messages. I’ll be calling you for emergency boner situations in minutes.”

“A ‘booty call’?”

Trust him to pick that phrase up.

“So? You game?” Crowley wiggled his eyebrows. “We don’t need to wait unless you want to.”

“Only if you tell me your favourite things I wrote.”

“Only if you read them out loud to me.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Not all on the asexual spectrum are traumatised. This individual is.  
> 2\. No one needs to have sex to have a loving relationship. But it's perfectly fine if you want to. Or if only sometimes, or in only some ways.  
> 3\. Sexual situations do not magically fix trauma. And nor should they. But they can form part of a supportive and loving relationship that you move away from pain with.  
> 4\. If you understand the above too deeply, please know you are beautiful and loveable. And that this experience is just one of a myriad of them. And there's nothing at all wrong.   
> 5\. And if you ever doubt it, remember that Aziraphale would totally love to take you for afternoon tea, and you'd have a delightful time. If that was your thing ;)


End file.
